


Stories of the Second Self: Not the Hero We Need

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [194]
Category: Bat-man, Pack Life - Fandom, The Howling (1981), Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Taylor and three other werewolf members of the Ridgewood Street Pack in Norwood, Cincinnati relish their win in a fight against a rival pack. However, one of them disappears, and then a second, before Taylor realizes that someone has taken neighborhood watch and cosplaying too far.
Series: Alter Idem [194]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Not the Hero We Need

"Felt so fuckin' good," Taylor gnashed, making punching gestures. "Knockin' down those punks from Burwood Pack!"

Taylor and three others walked down the nighttime streets, in the Norwood district of Cincinnati. The occupation had ended months ago, and cops still weren't out in full force. It meant to Taylor and the other werewolves of Ridgewood Pack that they could settle up with other packs without interference.

That's what Taylor assumed when turning to address Emanuel at the back of the group. Only Emanuel wasn't there.

"Hey, Emanuel," Taylor called out, "Stop fuckin' around. We gotta get back before somebody snitches us out. You don't want Officer Scooter or Cheney stoppin' you."

Daryl stopped and sniffed at the air, remarking, "'T'fuck is that?"

Callie, the girl in the group, also took a whiff. "Rubber or some shit. Maybe nylon too? Smells brand new."

"Emanuel," Taylor called out again, "C'mon!"

"I think Burwood needs another beat-down," Callie yelled at the dark, flipping out her baton that she'd used already tonight.

Taylor whirled around on hearing a fabric whipping sound. "Shit, did you catch that?"

"I guess that's supposed to be scary," Daryl scoffed.

Taylor hear a pop from behind some cars and a chuck sound from a building roof. "That don't sound like some shit Burwood would do."

Callie went to the parked cars, where the sound originated from, and on looking down at something raised her baton. Yet, Taylor watched her yanked down before she could make a sound. Next, Taylor hear some meaty whacks followed by another whipping sound.

Taylor and Daryl both rushed over, only to find Callie lying face down and her head deformed amid blood splatter that assailed their noses.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Daryl cursed suddenly fearful.

A whirring winding noise pulled Taylor's attention to where he previously heard the chucking sound. Rising up the wall was a black shadow barely in the outline of a person and their cape.

"Shit!" Taylor couldn't believe he was seeing this. "Fuckin' kiddin' me!"

At the top of the roof, the figure stood letting the two points atop their cowl complete the comic outline. The whacked out wannabe rose something up in a straight-armed hold and let go. Taylor could smell Emanuel's scent from the load as well as piss, and he raced over to where Emanuel fell.

"Fucker's gonna pay, buddy," Taylor said, as he pulled Emanuel over but then realized he smelled blood. "Shit, Emanuel? What did he do to you?"

Even in the gloom of night Taylor could see the gaping wound on Emanuel's neck, and that he was visibly grayer than he should be. Taylor realized this wasn't just some cosplaying nut pretending to be a caped crusader.

"Daryl!" Taylor's voice went nearly shrill. "He's a nightcrawler!"

Except, Daryl was already bookin' it down the street. Taylor could tell from Daryl's posture, that he was starting to turn while on the run. The Gotham reject leapt to the next rooftop in Daryl's direction, and Taylor heard the costumed vampire pounding in a hard sprint.

"Ya, fuck you," Taylor gritted, and started his own transformation.

In contrast to the human gangs in the early months of Alter Idem, street packs preferred cheap and easily discarded shoes. Pretty much every howler abandoned socks when not conforming to a dress code, but Pack Life required a willingness to go to the skins, if need be.

Taylor found it difficult to keep his pace while bones crackled and his muscles felt like tightly bound knots. Yet, he was easily able to keep up with the nightcrawler knight.

Daryl had already finished, and was bounding hard on all fours. In another minute Taylor also shifted wholly into therianthropic form, having drawn his belt tighter to keep his pants from sliding down and tripping him up.

Ahead, Daryl had turned down another street, and Taylor heard the vampire veer off to cut the corner and make up the distance. Taylor himself kicked it up into full bore sprint, while hearing another pop and chuck noise.

Turning a corner, Taylor was just in time to see the caped vampire swinging down toward Daryl and snag him by his lupine ankle. Both of them rolled in the snatch and tackle, and a growl rose in Taylor's throat as his paws pounded hard.

More of that sickly meat-pounding reached Taylor's ears along with a distinct crack, but yelps from Daryl told him it wasn't fatal. Taylor saw Daryl thrash and bite, but the other pack member's jaws latched onto a solid forearm guard with a thud.

The vampire ripped their arm back, and Taylor thought he saw a spray of blood with that action. Leaping, Taylor sought to ambush the nightcrawler from above. However, the vampire rolled and Taylor felt a boot heel strike his solar plexus and sent him sailing.

By the time Taylor could scramble back onto all fours, there was no sign of the cosplaying vampire. Nor did he see Daryl. Taylor went to the brick wall were droplets of blood landed, and sniffed at them. The vampire must've cut Daryl's mouth when freeing his arm, because Taylor picked up saliva scent in the splatter.

Enraged as well as terrified, Taylor reared up and loud throaty growl morphed into a raspy howl, as his clawed hands curled taunt. That was cut short by something wrapping around his neck.

Taylor felt ripped back into a narrow alley. Before he knew it he was staring into a masked face, but with solid black eyes and a mouth full of hooked razors. The vampire displayed the three blades on the outside of his forearm, from which Taylor could smell Daryl's blood.

In panic, Taylor grabbed at the bladed wrist guard with one hand, and lashed out at the vampire's face. The vampire pulled back, but Taylor's faster reflexes rewarded him with his claws punching through the skin of the nightcrawler's mouth. Not that it helped.

In a raking of unrestrained force, the vampire slashed cuts into the pad of Taylor's paw-like hand. The next slashing went across Taylor's throat. Absently, he flailed and kicked, but he grew weaker by the second. Before everything went dark, Taylor was aware of those shark-like teeth closing in on him.


End file.
